Belle's Favorite Chair
by Mrs-Stiltskin
Summary: Tumblr Prompt fill: Write a fic about this chair, including the feather boa... or what happens when Belle invites Mr. Gold up to her apartment for strawberry shortcake...


Mr. Gold laughed, his eyes sparkling, crinkled around the edges in genuine mirth as he pushed open the door of Granny's diner. One arm extended, his palm flat against the door as he leaned over to let Belle slide past him and out the door into the cool, damp night. The jasmine, orange-blossom scent of her hair filled him as she turned to wave goodbye to Ruby. He swore he saw Ruby nod and give Belle a saucy wink and a flick of her hips as she waved back. He ducked his head and turned away, so she wouldn't think he'd seen.

"Oh, Rumple, that was the best!" Belle gushed as she stepped onto the sidewalk. Her skirt flared gently around her thighs as she spun, her high-heeled shoes scrunching on damp concrete as she walked backwards ahead of him, so she could face him as they strolled. "I know you like ketchup best, but the barbecue sauce and sauteed mushrooms made that bacon cheeseburger the best one so far. Thank you!" She looked beautiful in the mist and moonlight, smiling, laughing and relaxed in his company. He worried she would trip and sprain an ankle walking like that.

He reached forward and caught her hand, bringing her giggling to his side, but at least walking forward and therefore in less danger of harm. "I know, love, I'm quite boring," he laughed, bumping her arm and squeezing her fingers with gentle pressure, "ketchup, lettuce, tomato and pickles. I can't help it. I tried it the first time and never wanted anything else after." He grinned at her, almost sheepish, but with a little gleam of something naughty in his eyes.

Too soon, they stood in front of the door that led up to her small apartment over the library. These little dates had been going well, he thought; laughing conversation, stolen glances, casual touches that had begun to linger, on both their parts. She stood close to him, now, her hand gently on his arm. His heart beat a tattoo in his chest and he could scarcely breathe, his eyes rested on the delicate pink bow of her lips. He could see her breath, crystalline in the cool night air and he wanted to taste it more than he wanted to live.

He could see she didn't want to move or speak, to break the spell of the quiet moment. He was so grateful to be getting this second (third?) chance to be close to her, he didn't want to scare her off by being too forward. He stood unmoving for a long moment, indecision locking his uncooperative limbs. She sighed, just quietly, but he was so close to her, he heard. "Thank you, Rumple, I really enjoyed the evening. The food and the company," she blushed, lifting her sky blue eyes to his, "most especially the company."

Her whole stance _reached_ for him, though she didn't move. Her upturned face, eyes searching, her shoulders, arms, _everything_ all leaned toward him, pulling him toward her without a single movement. He broke, he could contain himself no longer. Gathering her in his arms, he lowered his face to Belle's and brushed her lips with his, the barest whisper of a kiss. She melted into him, a sigh of relief gusting against his lips, the quietest whimper of longing just there in the back of her throat. Gold held her close, courage and love blossoming in his chest, and pressed his lips more firmly to hers. Her lips parted, Belle caught his bottom lip between hers with the gentlest sucking sensation and he felt her tongue dart out to taste him. His mind whirled. Belle was in his arms, warm and soft and yielding, and it was the closest his ruined old soul was likely to get to heaven.

Belle dragged herself from the kiss until his lips rested on her forehead. "Come up for dessert?" she asked, her voice betrayed the slightest tremble, "and some tea? It's not that late." She turned and unlocked the door, glancing over her shoulder, her chestnut curls hiding all but her eyes. Her gaze was warm and open.

"Oh, yes, of course. You know how I do like sweets," Gold smiled and followed her, the tip-tap of his cane echoing as he made his way up the narrow steps. Belle went to the small kitchen, while Gold made himself at home in the cozy living room. He could hear her puttering around, and humming as she worked, dishes and silverware clinking and water running to fill the teapot. His heart lifted at the thought of her being happy with him again.

They had gone too fast, after she had escaped from the cell Regina had locked her in for thirty years. Neither one of them had exercised any caution, and they had both thrown themselves headlong into a life they had never shared. Wanted, yes, but never had. Never worked towards. Belle moved straight into his home and into his bed without hesitation. They'd enjoyed each other, loved each other, and even got along well living together, but he'd never told her about Bae. He'd never explained about losing him and needing magic to find him. She was furious when she caught him spinning gold and working late into the night on a spell, and she'd left thinking that magic and power were the most important things in the world to him. She'd told him she didn't want to see him again.

Mr. Gold gave her the town library to manage, and this apartment to live in not to win her back, but to give her room to think, to be herself for a while. She'd had so little time to do that in her life, both he and Regina had seen to that. The apartment was dainty and light, like Belle, shabby chic whitewashed furniture with floral print dust ruffles and patchwork quilts decorated the airy space. Books were stacked in corners and on end tables, some with ribbons or bookmarks of dried wildflowers marking a place she hoped she would eventually return to. He looked around, smiling to himself that she seemed comfortable and happy here.

He had told her everything, about needing magic to find Bae, to find a way to cross the town line without forgetting. She'd understood, bless her quick mind and compassionate heart. She'd seen how important it was to him to find his son, and she'd opened herself to him again. They'd been taking it slower this time, though, Belle deserved a proper courting. And they'd been on several dates in the past weeks, dinner, dancing, even a proper picnic at the park. He still wondered at the fact that she'd ever wanted him at all, and had no idea what the lovely creature saw in the twisted old imp that he was, but there she was, fixing dessert for the two of them. Bliss. He sighed.

He had made his way to the corner, to shed his jacket as he waited for Belle to finish in the kitchen. He looked down at the chair he was about to drape his jacket across and did a double take, it fit with nothing else in the room. Worn, brown leather covered a wood frame and the curved seat was lifted only a few inches off the floor by stubby, curved legs. One bentwood arm had broken off long ago by the look of the patina on the unvarnished wood where the lost arm should have connected to the frame.

No less than three stacks of books lay around the chair, one behind and two to the side, most with markers showing they were in various stages of being read. A tiny table, big enough to hold a glass of iced tea and little else was within arm's reach. An old, multi-colored, crochet lap blanket draped casually over the back. Gold tossed his jacket across the arm of the overstuffed, floral sofa instead, unbuttoned his waistcoat and loosened his tie. His heart clenched a tiny bit as he caught sight of the last item that lay draped across the back of the brown leather chair.

He cleared his throat loudly as he heard Belle putting the things on a tray and begin to make her way to the living room. "Entertaining much?" Gold asked, he could hear the edge in his own voice and attempted to master it.

"What? No, not really," Belle emerged from the kitchen with a tray laden with tea things, a steaming pot and two large bowls covered in fluffy whipped cream. "Oh," she giggled, "um, yes that's Ruby's." Gold had picked up a black, feather boa from the back of the chair and had it draped over his hand.

"She was going to wear it on a date with Viktor," Belle smiled a little sadly, shaking her head. "I love the girl, but her fashion choices leave me astonished sometimes. I _made_ her leave it here." Belle set the tray on the white wicker chest in front of the sofa that served as a coffee table. She beckoned him with a wave of her hand, "I have strawberry shortcake I made this afternoon. The strawberries at the green market were simply luscious."

Gold's shoulders relaxed with relief, and chuckling he draped the boa around his neck, throwing it with a jaunty flourish over his shoulder. Black feathers tickled his nose, but he was so relieved it wasn't hers, he didn't care. For a moment, he felt like the Dark One again, all dragonhide and spiked collars intended to intimidate and fascinate his quarry. He supposed he must look only ridiculous now, about as far from intimidating as it was possible to be, but he thought a little laughter and silliness might put Belle even more at ease with him. And he did so love to hear her laugh.

Laugh she did, when she stood and turned to see him strike a dashing figure there in his shirtsleeves and Ruby's feather boa; a deep, merry laugh that filled his heart to overflowing. He reached for her, pulling her laughing to him and brought her in for another kiss. This one more demanding. He parted her lips with his insistent tongue, and she opened for him gladly. He ran his tongue across the roof of her mouth and licked her teeth, tasting her and seeking yet more of her to taste. His hands roamed her back and came to rest at her slim waist. She laughed softly into his mouth, smiling against his kiss, and he swallowed it gratefully.

Belle pulled away, smiling, taking the feather boa and draping it over her own shoulders while Gold licked his lips chasing the sweet taste of her. "Strawberry shortcake?" She asked, her eyebrows raised as she gestured toward the tray. "I thought you wanted dessert."

"Oh, yes, I do want dessert," Gold said, his voice velvety and rich, "but as delightful as that confection over there looks, there's something else in this room that I guarantee is far more delectable and at least twice as sweet." He stood behind Belle, his hands resting light on her hips. Gold leaned in and moving the heavy curtain of her hair aside, pressed his lips to her neck. His lips and tongue teased at the place where neck and shoulder meet, his tongue swirling a bit of moisture into her skin. She shivered, he pressed tight against her and she leaned back against him, her hips rolling in a way that rubbed a growing hardness she couldn't fail to notice. He wanted to taste her in ways he had not yet done, and his mind wandered to the odd chair in the corner.

"I was wrong, love," he declared, scooping her up in his arms. Belle kicked her feet and squirmed against him, gasping. "At least ten times as sweet," he crowed, crushing her close and swinging her around.

"Your ankle, Rumple!" Belle protested. But he needed only to turn about where he stood to deposit her rump-first into the strange chair, though he nearly lost his balance doing so and had to catch himself on the one intact arm. Preserving his dignity, he leaned in and kissed her mouth firmly as he sank to his knees between her thighs.

* * *

He broke from her lips long enough only to look around, and catching up a plump throw-pillow from the sofa, Rumplestiltskin lifted himself to place it under his knees before returning eagerly to her mouth. His hands rested on her thighs, fingers toying idly with the material of her skirt as he kissed her. Strong fingers spun lazy circles and the wool of her skirt rubbed against Belle's stockings, a rough but pleasant sensation as her head filled with his unhurried kisses.

Belle felt his hands slip up under her blouse to roam the bare skin of her back and she sat up, perched at the edge of the seat, bringing her body against his and wrapping her legs around behind him, her feet resting between his knees on the pillow. They were wrapped in one another this way, her face above his as they kissed and kissed. Hours or days, Belle had no sense of time while Rumple's purposeful fingers massaged her shoulder blades and her hands twisted in his soft hair as their tongues danced and darted, tangling with one another in a delightful rhythm. It felt so blessedly good to have his strong arms around her once again, to feel his reverent touches, his languid kisses a benediction of love as he knelt there between her knees. Oh, she had missed his sweet devotion in the weeks they had been apart!

But she _was_ happy here, in her little apartment. Of course Rumple had given it to her, but it was _hers_, and she'd never had anything of her own before. Her father's homey keep, the gloom of the Dark Castle, unrelenting cold at the highest tower of Regina's winter palace, and the sterile, white tile of Storybrooke General's psych-ward were all she'd ever known. And now this bright and lived-in space could be anything she wished. She _had_ liked living with Rum for those first few weeks while her nightmares still haunted her dreams and this strange world hadn't made any sense to her, but it was good now for her to learn what it was like to be a person on her own; at least for a little while.

Even though she wasn't angry with him anymore, and understood his need for magic to find his lost son, she wasn't ready to simply set her newfound freedom aside and go back to being just _his_. Of course they would move back in together and she secretly hoped he wanted to marry her. Belle held out hope that he would work up the courage to ask her on his own and she wouldn't have to resort to Ruby's tactic of leaving copies of _Modern Bride_ and _Martha Stewart Weddings_ lying around Viktor's apartment. Rumple had been nothing but sweet and patient on their dates, never pushing, never overstepping gentlemanly bounds, merely delighting in her company and watching her with dark, storm-filled eyes that wondered if she could ever love him again.

Silly man! She hadn't ever stopped loving him. She'd just needed a little time to adjust, adjust to life in Storybrooke and adjust to the things he'd finally confided in her about magic and Baelfire, his son. Of course she wouldn't stand in the way of him finding his beloved boy! He'd only spent lonely centuries making the deals and creating the magic necessary to cross worlds for him. The man was capable of such utter love it made her heart break to think of it. So here she was, and grateful to him for his patient wooing. But now she just missed him, and wrapped herself around him like she did that first night after Jefferson had helped her escape her tiny, white prison cell.

"So you like my little reading chair?" Belle asked, her fingers slipping through his hair, twisting and playing with the silken strands. "I rescued it from a junk pile. I like it so because it doesn't crowd me and I can stretch out my legs while I read." She stretched her legs luxuriously, twisting her torso and squeezing him with her thighs and laughing when he nipped her chin and took her mouth in another wet kiss.

"Mmm-hmm, I like it very much," he murmured against her mouth. His hands stroked her sides and back down her shivering flanks to play again with the hem of her skirt. "It's perfect and I hope you keep it forever." Rumple's inquisitive hands began to wander up Belle's thighs under her skirt, his open mouth to wander down her neck and collarbone. Rumple's tongue darted out to lick the space between her breasts and she shuddered and moaned in his arms.

Rumplestiltskin pulled back to take in her face and search her eyes, his hands stilling, abandoning their quiet exploration. Belle thought she saw a little something of worry creep into his eyes as he watched her. Lines etched themselves between his brows, and his mouth turned corners-down into a thoughtful frown. She tucked his silky, honey-brown and grey-peppered hair behind his ears so she could better watch his eyes and she couldn't help but smile at the feel of it. "Are you certain, love?" he asked her gently, "it's okay if you aren't ready for this again yet. We can eat our des…."

Belle cut him off mid-word with a deep kiss, her insistent tongue was the one to part his lips and when she found his tongue, she sucked it hard into her mouth. Her hands roamed down the small of his back and lower, cupping Rumplestiltskin's backside in her small hands. Her fingers dug into the firm apples of his muscular cheeks and she pulled him tight against her, her legs tightening around him, heels locking behind his thighs. He _must_ feel the moist heat of her desire, even through their clothing, as she brought her hot center hard against his growing length. "Oh… yes, Rum, I'm sure," she managed to breathe between kisses.

Rumple gasped, his eyes widening at her boldness. Belle laughed, undulating her hips slowly against the rough wool covering the hardness of his cock. There was no doubt of his desire; she only wished she could convince him of hers once and for all. She loved him fiercely, this man who could be so uncertain one moment and confident, ardent lover the next. "I've missed you, Rum," she said quietly, "Really, really missed you." She emphasized each word with a bump or grind of her hips against his. He groaned deep in his chest, rumbling his approval.

Mr. Gold smiled wickedly at her, his gold tooth winking in the low light, and his eyes glinted with the promise of impish mischief as he reached over to bring one of the bowls of strawberry shortcake close to him. Belle looked the same as ever, but her strange lover had changed so from who she had first fallen in love with. She loved him in any form, scaled and gold-flecked or pink-fleshed and soft-eyed, man or beast, and he was both she knew. Now when she looked at him she sometimes couldn't decide if he was Mr. Gold in his sharp suits or still her Rumplestiltskin with his sharp collars and even sharper wit. Belle's mind flipped lazily back and forth and she decided that he was both and something deeper besides.

He fed her a heaping spoonful of the sweet berries and cake and then took a big bite for himself. Rumple's easy smile erased the years from his face and he looked almost boyish as he waggled his eyebrows at her. "A taste test, shall we?"

Rumple scooped a plump, whole strawberry from the bowl along with a large dollop of whipped cream and brought it to her mouth. He painted Belle's smiling lips with the whipped cream and then licked and sucked the sweet stuff from her as she moaned into his mouth. He sucked the rest of the cream from the berry and placed it delicately between his teeth, wrapping his lips around one end he offered Belle the other. Their teeth clicked gently as she bit down, taking her part of the berry from him. Cool, sticky juice dripped down her chin, and Rumple made a sound of pure pleasure in his throat as he followed the sweet, red trail open-mouthed from her chin to her lips and back down, up under Belle's jawline to her pulse point. She mewled, little gasping, desperate sounds as he nibbled there, nipping the skin between his teeth and sucking it hard, licking after to soothe.

"Delicious indeed, but no comparison," he declared, "Your sweetness outshines the juiciest summer berry." His hands caressed her thighs, running up under her skirt. She felt his fingers hook into the waistband of her tights, running back and forth, tickling her skin. "I'd wager the rest of you is even sweeter," his voice was husky in her ears, velvet-smooth and deeper in his desire. It vibrated through her body making her quiver deep and low, between her hips, both at the sound of his honeyed voice and his words.

She gasped with shock, her breathing staccato as he lifted her hips and pulled her tights and knickers down around her ankles in one sudden, swift movement. He kissed her knees, first one and then the other, divesting her of her shoes, knickers and tights and dropping them in a messy pile on the floor next to her. Belle blushed furiously, mildly alarmed to be exposed so intimately to his gaze, but Rumple's look of pure longing as he brought his lips to the inside of her thigh distracted her from her thoughts of modesty.

Her own innocence betrayed her and she was unsure of his intentions as he mouthed his way up the inside of one trembling leg. His tongue drawing moist patterns on skin now bare and covered with gooseflesh. Belle closed her eyes and gripped the one arm of her reading chair as his lips closed and he sucked tender skin between his teeth. Gold bit down without force, quiet moans escaping him as he tugged gently at her and her eyes flew open, watching him. His tongue followed, laving her worried skin with broad, soothing strokes. Belle considered resisting him for a bare moment as he pressed her legs wider, her right hand gripping the chair, quaking. But all such thoughts abandoned her when, with the soft curtain of his hair tickling her thighs, Rumple nudged her _there _with his nose.

She watched, transfixed, as he rubbed his nose, his cheeks, his chin over the soft tangle of dark curls at the apex of her thighs. Rumple hummed quietly to himself, nuzzling her, inhaling deeply as he tilted his head just enough to look up at her, his heavy-lidded eyes burning with a hunger she had never seen before, his pupils wide and dark with desire, "Gods, Belle, but you smell like heaven." His voice was a trembling whisper against skin already alive with the electric tingle of arousal.

He gripped her flanks with strong but gentle fingers. The clever hands of a spinner; how she loved them as they moved on her, at once both inquisitive and knowing. Tugging her bare bottom to the edge of the soft, age-worn leather, he urged her to lie back against the curving seat. "Sweetheart, I'm going to taste you. Please, let me taste you," Rumple's voice was husky, deep in his throat and his brogue thick in his mouth. The naked want etched in his features lighting a fire low in her belly that twisted and flipped her insides as she watched his face.

She knew her eyes were wide as saucers and her nod weak, but she braced herself, "Anything, Rumple, it's yours. I'm yours. I trust you." And she did, though her heart hammered away in her chest, as if a small bird were trapped inside and fighting for its life to escape, and she swallowed hard. She really was going to have to look at some of the racier romance novels that Ruby kept suggesting but she'd blushingly put aside. Ruby had also hinted that she should look at something called the internet, that she might find a lot of interesting and useful information there. It bothered her to be so ignorant of these things while her True Love was obviously so much more worldly and knowledgeable in the ways of lovemaking! What if she was doing it all wrong? He would know her for what she was, a foolish and inexperienced girl.

Belle's busy mind was silenced abruptly by Rumple's warm tongue sliding through her soft, pink folds. All thought fled her and she was nothing but feeling and fire and hot, sweet desire, an empty vessel waiting to be filled up with pleasure. Belle's fingernails dug into rough wood, finding no purchase and the deepest moan escaped her as his tongue swirled around her little pearl, teasing it out so he could suck ever so gently. His face was beautiful, she thought, in his serene pursuit of pleasure.

His eyes were closed, lines and years erased from his features in his utter surrender to her womanhood. Gold's lips worshipped every fold, every bit of flesh that he could suck or nibble, and she had never imagined feeling anything like it. He teased her entrance with a twist of his tongue, slipping inside her once, twice, three times, and then sliding back up to flick playfully at her sensitive clit. Belle's body juddered in response to his gentle suckling of her tender bundle of nerves, hidden there in her tidy curls, her breathing quickened. She felt him smile and the soft breath of a sigh against her clit, "Does it feel good, love? Do you like it?" he murmured, the smooth silk of his voice vibrating at her center. "I can't help myself; I simply want to devour you, darling Belle."

Belle's head was thrown back, her left hand tense on the single arm of her chair, Ruby's black feather boa in the death grip of her right. She took a shuddering breath, her hands relaxing, finding the sides of his face there between her splayed thighs. "Oh gods, Rumple," her voice cracked in her ears, "I... I... I have no words, Rum. It feels so good, your mouth, your tongue, please, I need more." She pressed herself shamelessly toward him, half-formed, whispered pleas tumbling from her lips; Belle's fingers tugged this hair, guiding him back to where she needed him like a drowning man needed air.

Gold sucked in a sharp breath at her words, his fingers dimpling the flesh at her hips. "Come here," he growled, lifting her left leg and resting it on the arm of the chair, his own curling beneath to hold her steady. Her right leg he pressed wide, draping it over his shoulder and running his hands up and down her thigh, scraping lightly with his nails. "Oh yes," she cried, her breath short and sharp as he cupped her bottom and pulled her hips up to meet his hungry mouth.

He buried his face in her slick wetness; his rough tongue lapping and swirling, devouring every inch of her as he had promised so wickedly. The greedy sounds of a starving man enjoying a feast left no doubt in her whirling mind that this was no chore for him. He wanted to taste her with a desire born of centuries, long lifetimes of loneliness and denial. She could sense his deep need, his deep hunger to claim and worship every part of her, to show her his gratitude for her love and acceptance by lavishing attention on every tiny bit of her. That he couldn't get enough was plain, the way his tongue and lips moved, sucking and licking to gather every drop of her moisture that he could find there amongst her folds.

Rumple's tongue pressed inside her, as deeply as he was able, his whole face wrapped in her tender rose petals so his warm tongue could reach her inner walls. He tensed his tongue, thrusting it into her and pulling Belle's hips to meet him, fucking her greedily with the tensed muscle. Belle whimpered, closing her eyes, fingernails curling into his scalp as he slid down to flick lightly against the tight rosebud between her nether cheeks. He moaned deep in his chest as his tongue pressed there for just a moment, lingering, savoring, and her hips moved of their own accord rotating herself, seeking more of his firm pressure against so sensitive a place. Stars exploded behind her eyelids as he groaned like a dying man in response to her movements. His tense shoulders relaxed and he sighed as he licked the tender bit of flesh _between_, teasing, earning him broken murmurs of approval as he journeyed back to her neglected nub.

Belle cried out loudly when he rubbed his stubbled chin directly on her swollen clit and prickles of fire shot through her from the roots of her hair to her curling toes. She jumped in his arms, twisting to escape the overwhelming sensation, but he gripped her firmly and put his lips there instead, sucking the whole of her into his mouth. His clever tongue set up a rhythm that would certainly bring her sobbing to climax, and soon. She panted, her breath ragged; whimpering sounds of pleasure were all she could manage, her hands fisted in his soft hair, a lifeline to her sanity.

Gold's clever fingers spread her, teasing at her entrance while his mouth worked steadily on her clit. He pressed two long, skilled fingers inside her and worked them in and out, rubbing knuckle deep at the special place that made her heart stop beating when he touched it. Rumple pressed firmly, rubbing circles deep inside, his mouth unwavering in its ministrations as her hips bucked into him. He stayed with her as her breathing became frenzied, her cries broken, and her flexing walls grasped at his purposefully fucking fingers.

Belle gasped and lifted her hips, her orgasm breaking over her in deep, rolling waves. Her fingers tangled in his hair, her nails scratching gently at his scalp as her guts twisted inside her, bunching her up at her hips and then tensing her muscles stiff against his suckling mouth. Belle's body shook with tension, her breath caught in her chest. His name a choked gasp the only sound or breath that escaped her lungs while she came. She felt Gold tense with her, his whole body shuddering as he rubbed himself against the chair beneath her.

"Unh! Oh, fuck…Belle…oh, Belle," he gasped against her clit, coming himself as the last of her orgasm shook her and the tension began to flow from her locked limbs. He slumped against her, his forehead resting against the rucked-up fabric of her crumpled skirt, his arms tight around her, squeezing her. He tilted his face up and she reached down for a gentle kiss, tasting herself on his glistening lips. The thought excited her, her juices there.

Rumple smiled a lazy, sated smile into her mouth as she deepened the kiss seeking even more of her taste in his mouth. "Not only do I get to have the most beautiful woman in all the realms, but she is a wicked little wanton as well," he murmured as Belle licked at the glistening wetness on his chin. "How in the world am I such a lucky bastard?"

* * *

Mr. Gold swung his cane, a little jaunt to his steps as he made his way about Storybrooke the next morning. He smiled wickedly as he thought of the previous night and wondered if anyone would notice that he was wearing the same suit he had worn yesterday. He and Belle had shared the second bowl of strawberry shortcake in bed (she was still a hundred times sweeter) while he had tossed his disgraced underthings into the small washer in the closet.

They'd slept together in her small bed, curled up back to front, feet tangled together, blissfully naked in one another's arms. He wished he could have her naked pretty much all the time as he thought of the generous swell of her hips as they rose from the bed, her head pillowed on his arm crooked beneath her head for the purpose, his nose buried in her jasmine scented hair, the curve of her sweet breast just visible under her arm. Gold's mind wandered further, thinking about how fucking good it felt to have his soft, love-sated cock nestled against the plush warmth of Belle's backside as he slept.

He laughed softly to himself at the memory of her surprise upon waking to find that it hadn't _stayed_ soft while he slept. Oh no, she'd woken to the greedy thing pressed against her back, just waiting for her wake so he could roll languidly atop her and take her with the somnolent lassitude that only a gentle early-morning coupling possesses.

Showered (together) and dressed again in yesterday's suit, they'd had a leisurely breakfast of leftover strawberry shortcake and tea, before striking out for their separate busy days with a sweet kiss and a promise of dinner again at Granny's. His slightly crumpled suit jacket recovered from the arm of the sofa, he'd patted the silly, broken chair fondly as he'd left her apartment. His old heart pumped furiously, thinking that they had a chance again. He would be patient, though he longed not to be. He longed to fall to one knee, a wretched supplicant, and beg her to marry him, sorry, warped soul that he was. Her love was the only thing in this world or any other that was going to save the likes of him.

But he needed to find Bae first. If he could get that behind him, find his son and mend the rift that would surely be between them, then he could give her the attention she deserved. Get married, have babies, or not; anything she wanted out of life, he would give her. For loving him, she deserved the world, and he could oblige, well at least as much as he could reach of it from Storybrooke.

He worried as he walked, that he had pushed her too far to fast again. They should have made out and he should have gone home. Patience, Gold, patience, he urged himself. The girl still needed her space, to find herself in this new world. Belle was the only one in this town who hadn't had the opportunity to come to grips with their new reality. Regina hadn't even bothered to give her an alternate persona with its requisite false memories. She was just Belle, and she had known nothing of this modern, magic-bereft world but the four walls of a white cell and what blue sky she could see from the meager window that was just out of reach.

Gold worried. It quickly soured his mood to think that he had frightened or pushed her. By the time he reached his shop, his steps had lost their jaunty air and even the tinkle of the welcome bell made him scowl as he made his way into the shop. Mr. Gold turned over the open sign and set about scheduling his day, running over a list of renters he would need to visit and press for their monies due. He pulled out his handkerchief to wipe his knotted brow and a slip of paper fluttered to his desk.

Gold picked it up. It was a piece of Belle's stationery, a delicate border of gold thread wove through a host of hand-painted wildflowers. On the paper, in her fine-scripted hand was a verse:

_Watching you gaze at me,_

_Pierce my soul, drink me in;_

_Tingles- electric, thrilling-_

_Make my heart skip a beat,_

_Rise up in my chest, _

_Feel three sizes larger_

_Than a moment before._

_Your mouth… lips… tongue…_

_Taste me, intoxicate _

_With sweet wine, _

_Exotic liquor, erotic elixir._

_Your fingers reaching for my_

_Heart- gentle, sensual- touching_

_My soul, filling my mind._

_Your body- warm, close- _

_Pressed against mine, gasping,_

_Clutching; fill me_

_With passion; take me_

_To the edge; lift me to the heights._

_Sensations of falling,_

_Of flying, of dying and_

_Being reborn in a glorious _

_Shower of silver light._

_ -Belle_

Gold stood for a long moment, clutching the paper in his shaking hand. Closing his eyes, he swallowed hard, and smiled a wan, watery smile to himself.

Perhaps a trip to the library would be in the cards for today…


End file.
